A Joke Gone Bad Revised Ch 3
by puppypants
Summary: Tag to Guilty Pleasure. McCadden plays a joke on McGee that ends up endangering his life. A McGiva Written about a year ago, revised
1. Chapter 1

"Get outta the way McDoor; I can't see the evidence if you're standing in front of it." Detective Phillip McCadden from Metro stood up, eyeing McGee with an edge of contempt in his approach. Tim just rolled his eyes with a sigh and stepped out of the way.

McCadden, DiNozzo, Ziva and McGee were almost done processing the crime scene for a Petty Officer DuCannon on Washington Blvd outside an old, abandoned warehouse located on Port Bellingham. The crime scene was a bloody mess, as the Officer had been beaten and robbed and had seemingly fought tooth and nail. This was just a third of a list of similar murders that kept McCadden involved with the case, since one of the victims had been a civilian.

It was getting late and McGee was getting fed up from listening to McCadden and DiNozzo discuss the best cowboy movie, or the best train movie or the best Disney movie, especially when they just happened to agree on every single answer. When they had asked McGee's opinion on the best Sci-Fi and he had answered XMen, they had laughed, uncontrollably, pointing their fingers and slapping their knees. From then on out, McGee silently disagreed with each one of their choices, choosing his own favorite. He didn't know if he was subconsciously rebelling their annoying behavior or it was the indignation he was presently feeling towards Tony.

He rubbed his neck; emotionally drained and exhausted. Contemplating his other team member, he scratched his fingertips over his stubbly chin as he walked closer to Ziva. "Hey, Zeevs, just about have enough of these two?" Tim indicated them with a nod of his head, while the two ignored them and the crime scene; too involved in their own childish conversation.

"If I recorded them, I could use it for white noise to fall asleep by, am I right, Tim?"

Tim raised his fist to to bump hers, sharing a smile. "Nice." Tim whispered.

Tony and McCadden drew their attention back to them, moving closer.

"So, Ziva..let's get your personal opinion. Ribbed or ultra smooth?" Asked McCadden.

Tim's reaction surprised the group when a deep growl, sounded in his throat, while he abruptly charged towards McCadden. Ziva's intuitive reflexes were quick, grabbing his arm and holding him back.

"Tim."

"Ziva, its okay." She hesitantly released his arm.

Tim got into McCadden's face, "That was uncalled for McCadden. Apologize to Ziva." Tim glared with a controlled calmness and courage, surprising McCadden as his mouth twisted in worry,tongue-tied.

"Come on, McGrumpy. Don't get your panties in a twist; chillax." Said Tony with a big, comforting grin, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"What? She doesn't mind." McCadden's confience grew with Tony by his side. He stepped closer to McGee, spitting in his face as he berated him. "She has a sense of humor unlike some sticks in the mud. "

'Well, I mind, ...she's not someone that you can disrespect and bounce off your stupid sexual innuendos to."

McCadden shoved Tim in the chest causing him to take a step back, then regain his balance.

"I didn't say she was."

"Then why do you talk to her like she is?" Tim inhaled heavily, his face a dark red,with anger.

At this point, Ziva began to pull on his arm, worried, while Tony had a hand on McCadden's shoulder. Ziva managed to guide Tim away as she softly whispered to McCadden with indignance, "Believe me. You will never have the privedge of knowing what my preference is. " She finished with a sarcastic frown as she turned her back on him, following Tim towards the van.

Gibbs approached Tony and McCadden watching Tim and Ziva leave. "Hey. Play nice guys." He directed his warning towards Tony, confirming it with a steely glare. "Looks to me you're forgetting something DiNozzo."

"What's that boss?"

"McGee's six."

"Ah...yeah, boss. I hear ya." Tony looked at the van, thinking about Tim.

McCaden elbowed Tony in the ribs, "Can you believe that geek? Trying to stick up for the fearless ninja hottie? Maybe, he thinks he is one of the XMen after all. Funny...cuz, although he may be a mutant there's nothing 'super' about him."

"Yeah. Whatever, Phil." Tony was struck with a sudden wave of guilt and sympathy towards his probie. He would make sure to apologize in some way tomorrow; maybe a package of nutterbutters. He'd be okay... he always was. McGee would forgive him...he always did.

xxx

Tim had just finished dinner, ready to take Jethro for a walk when the phone rang,

"Hello?"

"Special Agent McGee? This is Detective McCadden. I'm calling to inform you, your assistance is needed in apprehending the suspect acused in Petty Officer's DuCannon's murder. It is the same location as the vic's crime scene-"

"Washington Bouelvard?"

"We acquire your assistance immediately."  
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."  
"See you then."  
Tim thought it was strange, that McCadden called instead of one of his team members but it was late so unusal protocol was affected at times. Tim grabbed his jacket, unsecured his weapon from his safe box and grabbed his cell. He allowed Jethro a quick walk outside then brought him back inside.

"See ya soon, buddy. I'll take you for a better walk as soon as I get back."  
As soon as Tim closed the door the dog whined and cried, staying by the door until his return.

xxxx

Tim drove to the parking lot of the warehouse, noticing the few cars in the dark, unlit lot. A few men were huddled about twenty feet away smoking cigarettes. He unlocked his door then started to exit when he did a doubletake. The cars didn't look familiar, and there were no metro police cars to be seen within the area. Tim quickly scanned the dark parking lot; unable to locate any of his team.  
"Hey!" You there!"

One of the men started towards Tim with a confrontational stride, sending him loud, warning signals. He realized he made the mistake of not looking over the scene before exiting his car. He ignored the man, turning towards his car. As soon as his back was on the men he heard their steps quicken as they approached him from behind. He went for his Sig but was pistol whipped to the back of his head, instantly falling into unconsciousness.  
xxx

Tim was jolted awake with the strong sensation he was falling when in actuality he was being dragged by his arms, held by a person on either side of him. Consciousness came back in waves, his head rolling from side to side as he struggled to lift his chin off his chest.

"Hey,what's happening?" he mumbled, "Where's McCadden?" Was this some kind of joke? He tried to plant his feet on the moving ground beneath him but they would jerk him viciously, making his attempts futile. His vision was blurry and his thoughts disjointed. He knew he did not have the strength he needed to make any attempts for escape so let them drag him without a fight.

One of the men carrying him, stopped to open a side door to the warehouse then they entered into a big lit area greeted by a few more men, destroying any hope Tim had of escape.

A young, skinny guy with baggy jeans and red hair covered with a cap, positioned sideways, approached them, "Whose this guy?"

The men restraining Tim raised him to the man's eye level as he swayed, "Found him outside, didn't want to take any chances."

The men crowded Tim, with intentions of interrogating him. Tim raised his head, looking at the man directly in front of him, surprised to notice a familarity in the young man's features.

The man shoved Tim, spotting the recognition in his eyes, "Do you know me or something?"

Tim automatically looked at the floor, trying to hide the truth in his eyes that would give him away. He shook his head, "Not a clue."  
"Then what were you doing hanging around here?"

"I was walking my dog but he got loose-"  
"That's funny,because I don't see a leash."

"He's still wearing it."

The man backhanded Tim across his face as his head whipped to the side. He spit out the blood that filled his mouth. "What? Do you think I'm stupid? You're lying through your teeth."

"Yeah, if I have any left." Tim nervously chuckled but was cut short when his head flew to the other side from a subsequent punch to his jaw. His knees buckled but they held him, firmly, in an upright position.

"Hey this is fun! I have my own punching bag, anyone else want to let off some steam?" Tim was relieved when there were no takers. He faught to remain conscious, his vision becoming darker.

"Just let me go... and I'll leave like this never... happened."

The man slugged him in the stomach, as he bent over trying to catch his breath, then followed with another. The men holding him,let him drop mercilessly to the floor.

"Check his pockets."  
Another man of the group, with thick black hair and freckles leaned over Tim as his vision started to dissipate. Tim thought the kid couldn't be more than eighteen. He felt hands go through his jacket and shirt pockets retrieving his cell, badge and his gun from his holster. The man searching him mistakenly stepped on one of his hands. "Sorry-" The man paled when he realized he had just apologized to their captive.

"It's okay." Tim was punch drunk, unable to focus.

The man responded with a look of puzzlement, then stood. "Well, apparently he's a fed." The young kid held up Tim's badge for the ringleader to see.

"Aaah, terrific!" The ringleader kicked Tim in the side with frustration. The black-haired kid, winced to see Tim recoil from the violent impact.

"Just dump his body in the back." Suggested one of the men.

"I dunno-" Black-haired guy said.

"Hey, I have an idea how we can increase our profits. Feds can be worth a lot. We can ask a ransom!"

Tim knew if they asked for a ransom for his return his chance for survival was bleak. McCadden had summoned him to his own death sentence. Was he in some way behind this? Why did he send him here to begin with?"

"Tie him up. We'll give them a day to come up with the money otherwise we dump his body if they don't." He was shoved to his side as they bound his wrists behind his back. The weight of the desperation of the situation and the extent of his injuries pulled him into the welcoming darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva glanced towards the window near her desk, admiring the strong glare of the sun, promising the potential of a good day. She couldn't help but wiggle in her chair, finding it difficult to contain the excitement flowing through her veins every time the bell of the elevator sounded announcing someone's arrival.

After Tim's admirable display of chivalry the night before, she had come to realize just how deep her feelings for the man had become. She had never known a man to stand up for her; at any point in her life as McGee had; not thinking twice of his own well-being and willing to fight if necessary. She was falling for him; all of him, a man with reputable virtues and a kind, loyal heart.

Over the last few months their friendship had deeply developed, growing deeper and stronger. She would find herself daydreaming about him often, generating a broad smile across her face. She enjoyed the exhilaration that would flood her stomach when their hands would brush or the sideways glances she would steal, to catch a glimpse of his smile that she thought was simply adorable.

It was the small things at first, that added up as they grew closer, her accepting the pickles on his sandwich that he hated and she loved, exchanging phone calls on the weekend to get together for a walk or lunch; or, taking care of his dog when he went away. She would often try to plan it so they would leave at the same time, at night; then once in the elevator they would summarize the day, laughing at things that had happened, their conversations often carrying over to reveal more personal things about each other that she loved to learn about him.

The elevator dinged and she knew it had to be him, a smile spreading over her face as she played nonchalant and forced herself to not look up. She planned to wait for his reliable, sweet, morning greeting and cheery smile, before she would meet his gaze, as she tried to calm her fidgeting hands.

She jumped when Tony dropped his backpack on his desk, unzipping it to scrounge around inside.

"Oh. Good morning, Tony. I am surprised to see you in so soon."

"Soon? It's normal time. Whattya mean?" He didn't look up as he searched deeper into his pack.

"Hmmm." She looked at the time displayed on her computer screen then then bit her bottom lip, looking at the elevator doors. Ziva took a moment to think as she stared at her paperwork in front of her, wondering why Tim was so late.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Tony had finally looked up to look at her after she didn't answer him.

"What do you mean, Tony?"

"Well...I dunno. You seem... distracted. Like something is on your mind."

"That, Tony would be none of your beeswax."

Tony's brows furrowed then he smiled, finally pulling a package of nutterbutters out of his pack, glancing towards McGee's desk. "I beat McGoo?"

"If you mean Tim, I'm sure he just hit traffic. The traffic was horrible just before I arrived and we do live near each other."

"Yeah, right, but, like, this never happens."

Ziva let her eyes meet Tony's. "Do you think something is wrong?" She could see the worry lines in Tony's face, fueling her own concern as he stared at Tim's desk.

"Well, let's call him then check emails. But it's probably what you said, traffic. Were there any accidents?" Ziva quickly checked the traffic report for the DC area, online.

"No." Now, she could feel her face tense like Tony's. The lovesick jitters she had been experiencing turned into tense, worried ones. She enjoyed the former ones, much more.

xxx

Tony and McCadden entered the office building as McCadden talked about the evening he spent with some random woman the night before. But, Tony was preoccupied and disinterested, only faintly hearing him while keeping his gaze forward.

His whole team seemed off and the awareness of it wore away at him. McGee hadn't shown up for work and they had been unable to reach him; even checking his apartment but finding no signs of distress or disorder. But, there were a few things that were difficult to pinpoint. Like the fact, that Jethro was considerably relieved, when he had taken him for a walk. Or the observant fact that after Tony had poured a bit of kibble in his bowl, he had woofed it down with a vengeance. It was difficult to tell if McGee had slept there, since the bed was made and from what he remembered,he always made sure to make it in the morning.

Another nagging clue was that Probie was never unreachable, in fact he couldn't think of one time he was. And that's what worried Tony the most about McGee. Just before he had left to meet McCadden, Gibbs was about to call Abby to put a trace on his cell. Tony was more interested in listening for the ring of his cell for an update on McGee than to listen to McCadden blab on in the background.

Then there was Ziva. She had seemed, especially distracted this morning, but as usual, unwilling to divulge the slightest of information for the reason why. Tony was usually successful in eventually getting to the source of her hidden private life after relentless digging and sneaky, determined snooping but,as of now, he had gotten no where.

And, Gibbs? Well, from him; he detected an anger laced with slight disgust but sadly understood why. Gibbs was a marine, and loyal was his middle name. Tony felt that he had crossed the one line Gibbs would step in front of to take a bullet to protect; loyalty... to the ones you live with ...brothers, family; and to him, that's what they were. He felt that he had blown it big time with him and desperately wondered if the damage was reparable.

So, now he felt as if his own world was off-kilter, no longer sitting correctly on its axis to spin properly and continue to handle his everyday life the way he liked it. He hated feeling unbalanced...like all the pieces of his puzzled life were misshapen and jammed; unable to fit correctly within the borders for his life to flow smoothly. He felt that Phil had some how triggered his youthful traits, returning him back to his smug, cocky, know-it-all phase and he was dumbfounded that he hadn't seen the downward spiral as it was happening. The old ways fit him like a pair of worn-in slippers, comfortable and easy to slip on. Phil was the monkey wrench that was suddenly thrown into his personal universe. Tony had no idea what a monkey wrench looked like so pictured Curious George holding a huge plumber's wrench...

Phil cleared his throat. "Uh, Tony?" Tony erased the grin from his face that he had not realized he was wearing when Phil interrupted him from his reverie. Phil stood in front of him pointing to a directory of names on the wall in front of them, "Well?"  
"Well what?"

"Is this the guy we're looking for?"  
Tony self-consciously squinted to read the name; embarrassed he had no clue of what Phil had been saying for the last few moments. He felt tremendously out of the loop but then realized he didn't really care. "Uh, yeah. That's him. Second floor." They walked toward the stairs then started to climb.

"Why don't you transfer? You could get a better partner-"

Tony looked at Phil, increduously. "Phil. I already have the best partner a guy could ever want.  
"Really? Are you sure because he seems kind of nerdy to me." Phil was obviously too thick skinned to pick up on Tony's radical u-turn of his sudden dislike towards their dysfunctional friendship.

"He just happens to be really smart...he's the yin to my yang...he's the contrast I need to keep me grounded, and live up to my true potential, don't you see? You're just another yang, Phil; messing me all up."  
McCadden rolled his eyes, not sure what to think of Tony's philosophy, opting to ignore him. "Hey, how'd he like the joke I played on him last night?"

Tony stopped instantly and turned to Phil. "What did you say?"  
"You know...I told him to meet us at the warehouse on Washington because we were in the process of apprehending the suspect in the DuCannon case... uh, Tony? Where are you going?" Tony speed dialed Gibbs as he ran to his car.

"Boss! I think I have an idea where McGee could be. Meet me at Petty Officer DuCannon's crime scene. Yeah, I'll explain when I get there. Uh...no. I really don't know what to expect, but he could be in trouble." Tony snapped his phone shut. "Dammit to hell."

xxx

Gibbs sighed, his gut was churning and DiNozzo's call confirmed the uneasy feeling he had been experiencing all morning, that irritating, nagging sense that wanted to eat him alive. This all pointed to the possibility that McGee had been abducted and would explain his disappearance.

Gibbs liked to keep his feelings hidden for a reason. Maybe he had learned to from the days he had spent with Shannon and Kelly, so as not to worry them. He hated to worry people he loved, mostly because he didn't know how to deal with their emotions that would arise. Not hearing from McGee this morning sent him a red flag that was waving too fast to even see; a blur, caught in a violent wind; a force to be reckoned with. The possibility that McGee was in danger would have to be quickly put into perspective, viewed as another case as they all were in his everyday life to create a path of stability and strength to go on. The team might think him callous, but if he wanted to keep his head on straight and get them all through this, this was the only way he knew to complete the mission and to make sure McGee was alive when it was all over.

Was he too old for this shit? He wondered if there would be a day he wouldn't be able to talk himself through it. One of his boys was in trouble, the youngest, just a kid, known for his genuine sweet disposition, a sharp, reputable agent that deserved to be treated with respect as much as the rest was but sometimes wasn't. A problem he promised himself and McGee would be changed if he could just bring him back alive.

This kind of worry took its toll. The needed effort to contain it was exhausting and the thought of Tim's genuine innocence; his sweet, enthusiastic need to please him; never revealing a hostile bone in his body... would be close to unbearable.

Gibbs noticed Ziva, stuck in a faraway look, alerting her with the metallic sound of his drawer opening to retrieve his weapon, while snapping her out of her trance. "Ziver, gear up. Tony thinks he knows where McGee is."  
Ziva stood from her chair at her desk with a, restrained look of confusion and worry."I do not understand."  
"I really don't either-"  
"Is McGee in some kind of trouble?" Gibbs could see the growing worry in her face and his stomach tightened, more.  
"Well, that's what we're going to find out." Ziva followed Gibbs to the elevator swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

She leaned back against the elevator wall, then studied Gibbs' serious features trying to detect some vibe or gesture to clue her in. She looked at the the floor, frowning, she had to know, something or she felt she would bust. "Is he okay, Gibbs?"

Gibbs shrugged with a trace of patience in his voice, meeting her gaze, "I dunno, Ziva."

She fussed with her necklace as she silently recited a prayer. No. He will be okay, because for one thing he doesn't even know. She vowed she would do everything in her power, to make it right as rain. She visualized high-fiveing Tim, knowing he would be proud of her for getting the idiom correct.

Gibbs phone rang catching Ziva's full attention. "Yeah, Abs. Whatya got? Uh,uh. Yeah...gotta a call from DiNozzo; we're headed there now. Abs, calm down. I don't know anything. I promise...I promise to keep you updated,Abs. I don't know but I think we will when we get there." Gibbs closed his phone unable to meet Ziva's eyes, knowing she had heard enough to answer her questions.

xxxx

Tony was the first to arrive entering the decrepit building with his weapon drawn. He had already did a quick search of the outside perimeters finding nothing. "McGee! Are you here?" Ziva entered minutes later; her sense of awareness set on high alert with Gibbs close behind.

"Tony? McGee isn't here, is he?" Ziva asked.  
Tony didn't want to see the disappointment in her face so he kept his eyes scanning the inside of the warehouse. "Doesn't seem to be but we need to do a more thorough check of the building."  
"DiNozzo. Sitrep." Tony avoided his boss's accusing stare, that very much resembled Ziva's. He couldn't blame them.

"McCadden thought he was a funny guy last night and told McGee to meet us here; that we were busting the perp responsible for the Petty Officer's death. Now,that Tim didn't show up for work today, well...this might explain his disappearance. Tony cringed ready for Gibbs to lay into him and finish with a brain-splashing head slap, but Gibbs just sighed looking over the deserted warehouse they had scoped out, the night before.

The three of them momentarily studied the warehouse from where they stood. The place was a mess; busted windows with debris and litter covering the floors. The strong sun shone through the soiled, cracked windows, reflecting off a metal object catching Ziva's eye. Tony followed Ziva's gaze as she stepped quickly, covering the distance across the room to examine it. She kneeled then inhaled deeply, taking a moment as the back of her hand covered her mouth while she fought to catch her breath, staring at the object on the dirt covered floor.

"What is it, Ziva?" Ziva kept her head down unable to make eye cointact with Gibbs. Her voice came out choked and low.

"His badge, Gibbs. And...there...there are drops of blood covering the floor." Tony exhaled, shakily. He would have preferred the life threatening head slap much more than the tears brimming in his boss's eyes while watching Ziva fight for control of her emotions; something he had never seen before,from either of them.

Ziva finally raised her face, her jaw tensed to control the quivering that was threatening to reveal itself. She stood, walking closer to Tony. "Tony? Why did you both have to treat him so cruelly? He's your partner and you were treating that dickrod-"  
"Dickwad? " Thought Tony.

"More like a friend than you do to McGee. You set the tone. McCadden had no respect for McGee because his own partner couldn't show him any."  
"We were fooling around-" Gibbs' cell rang.

"Yeah, Gibbs. Slow down Abby, where's Tim? Yeah,Abs. We'll be back after we process the crime scene we got here."  
Ziva walked closer to Gibbs as Tony stared at his boss,listening until he shut his phone with a snap causing Tony to slightly jump. All he knew, was that it couldn't be good.

"There was a call at the navy yard. Whoever Tim met up with last night wants a ransom for his life. We have till this evening."

Ziva looked at both men, her hands on her hips, a new determination set in her eyes. "We have to work quickly then." She turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" called Tony.

"Gloves! Tony! Camera! Print kit! This is a crime scene, treat it like one! We do not have time to be standing around! Start processing!"

"She's right. This is the best place to start, unless McCadden knows something else."

"I'm sure McCadden didn't mean for this to happen boss-"  
"Well, it would have been nice if you had stuck up for McGee as much as you stuck up for McCadden." Tony could feel the cold stare and his neck warmed its way to his face. "So, are you sure there is nothing else that we need to know?"  
"No boss. I'll call McCadden and see if there is anything else he can tell me." He prayed that he was right. Gibbs' icy blue stare bore down to his soul. He couldn't believe this was happening. Never, in a million years did McGee deserve this. He vowed he would do everything in his power to fix this.

"Tony, get the tire tracks to Abby, asap!"

"On it boss!"

"Tony! Bag the evidence!"

"On it Zeevs!"

"Sorry, Tim." Tony whispered to the air as he hurried about.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Hi, sorry,my title is mixed up with the Ch 3 in each posting. I couldn't delete it so just ignore it. (Not sure how it even got there) Thanks for reading and leave a review

xxxxx

Tim slowly came to, weakly struggling then realizing, his hands were tied behind his back. His eyelids bounced like small window shades refusing to retract. He was slumped in a small wooden chair, exhausted from the pain coursing through his body. His head pounded with a vengeance, but with no surprise as he replayed the memory of the vicious beating his body had endured,earlier. He managed to crack an eye open, squinting to focus in the strong light, searching the room he was confined to. He was startled when he detected movement to his left; the kid with black hair and freckles sat in the corner, ignoring him while reading a magazine.

"Hey, dare. Ah, yeah..you. S-s-so, what... haphens...happens now?" Tim was alarmed to hear his voice. The left side of his mouth felt swollen, figuring that was causing the slurred and impaired speech and hopefully not the aggressive beating the kid took out on his head, messing up the frontal lope of his brain that controlled his ability to talk. He thought it absurd that he actually, remembered that part of the anatomy of the brain from the psych class he took. "I think my frontal lope... hurts." He softly chuckled; sarcastically, realizing how dire his situation was, feeling hopeless and defeated. Tim knew this kid could be his only way out of this mess. So,it couldn't hurt to develop a relationship with the guy.

"Hellloooo? Is there anybody..in..there?" The man across the room kept a straight face, ignoring him as he flipped through the pages of his magazine. "Did you move me...outta the warehouse to a house or s-s-s-omething? Cuz, it seems like we're in a houssse. I'm so tired...and diz-z-zy, but I know it would be stupid for me to even consider," Tim yawned, "taking a nap-"

The door of the room opened, banging off the wall, jolting them both. Tim's eyes were now wide with fear as they fell upon the man who entered the room; the ringleader.

Tim studied the man's face hoping to jog his memory. It had involved a case...he remembered joking with Ziva. A Commander...his son had stolen his... credit cards? He remembered the man had been livid which was understandable but, didn't handle the situation with the least bit of class; swearing up a storm and just acting really grumpy and rude about the whole thing and taking it out on everybody willing to help... Crevits! Commander Crevits! And, his son's name was Fred! He had stolen the credit cards. Tim remembered the father had pressed charges against him.

Tim's line of strategy clicked into action. Tim had never met the kid in person but had seen a portrait of him on his father's mantle.

Crevits shoved an open cellphone into Tim's face. "Say something to let them know you're alive but be careful... no games."  
Tim ignored the phone jamming in his ear, focusing his attention on Crevits.

"You son of a bitch, good for nothing piece of-" A crazed, evil glint, shown in Crevits', now, bugged-out eyes, listening to the profanity, Tim directed towards him with hostility in his locked gaze. A strong memory from his past was triggered by Tim's cruel words as he snapped, striking Tim with a blinding force that held no restraint.

The young man seated in the chair dropped his magazine, approaching Crevits from behind, cautiously grabbing his arm. "Hey! Stop it already! You're going to kill him!"

The glaze that had momentarily filled Crevits' eyes lifted as he came back to his senses. His chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing, "You have till sunset then he dies." Crevits yelled into the phone then flipped it closed, turning to the black-haired man, yelling, full of contempt, "Make sure he doesn't get away!" Crevits left the room, slamming the door.

The black-haired man glared down at Tim, "What is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish or something?" The man was genuinely perplexed after witnessing Tim's behavior. He shook his head, then returned to his chair in the corner. He gave Tim one last glare then resumed reading his magazine.

Tim hadn't listened to his reprimand; the roar in his ears stronger and distracting. The room was spinning, everything blurry and detached. He fought to stay awake, his head swaying. He clumsily began to tug and work at loosening his bonds...there was no way it could end like this. He was basically just sentenced to death at sunset... just like one of Tony's old cowboy movies; execution at sundown ..or maybe, it was dawn. Then again,when were shootouts scheduled? It'd be kinda dark at sunset for a shootout, but he'd have a better chance if it was a shootout. Shootouts were probably scheduled for noon. But then there was the possibility of the sun getting in your eyes. Would they eat lunch first? He didn't think Crevits would be offering him any last meals..

Tim stared at the floor wondering how this had got to be so bad. Of all the thoughts running through his head, they all kept returning to Ziva. He realized he would never be able to tell her how he felt about her. A tear ran down his bruised cheek, "I shouldn't have waited."  
Tim saw two sympathetic eyes peering at him in his peripheral vision. The man sighed, frowning, then returned his attention to his magazine.

"Hey...what's your name? You know, since we're both stuck in here, we might as well get to know each other better. I'd hate for my last hours to be staring at this dingy..yellow wall in front of me." Tim was hoping to play on the man's sympathies. He felt the warmth of his blood run over his hands from working at his ropes. He knew it was futile but he was not going to give up.

"That guy's name is Fred, isn't it? Could you tell me yours...we'll keep it a first name basis." He waited but didn't expect an answer. "Well, I'll just call you..,um... Mike. You kinda look like a Mike, at least like my cousin Mike who used to ride ostriches." Tim was looking at the floor at this point, talking to the air. "He had a ranch out in...um, Arizona. He was going to raise them for meat," Tim flashed an expression of disgust, at the thought of it, then continued, "but den...he realized he didn't wanna kill'm."

"So... how 'bout it, Mike? Yah know...releas-s-s-sing me...then, I could try to help you."

"I'm Tim. I, uh..I've been an NCIS Special Agent since I was...about 24, which I'm guessing that's about your age now...?" Tim waited then continued. "I have a dog named Jethro. His teeth are probably floating at this point...poor guy. Do you have any pets? Gold...fish? Ham...ster? Maybe a fly that keeps flyin' 'round you? If you name him, that constitutes as a pet, you could call'm Lindbergh or Amelia Earhart. Do girl flies exist?"

"Maybe the talking part of my brain.. has been compromised...I don't usually talk this much...I suppose you've noticed that I really want to keep awake for my remaining time, here on earth, since I'll be taking a pretty long cat nap once ol' Fred does me in. Ya see...NCIS makes no deals. If they did... everyone and their grandmother would be rich, kidnapping federal agents and collecting ransoms on a daily basis."

Tim winced, his wrists now raw and extremely painful. He squeezed his eyes as his head began to roll from side to side. "I'm so thirsty."

"I wish I could talk to Tony about all this...get things straightened out." Tim could feel sweat beginning to trickle down the sides of his face. "Tony was being Tony. Being his usual Tony self but more Tonyish than usual. Ya know... funny but not really funny but he thinks he's funny and doesn't notice that no one else thinks he's funny...and he's the only one laughing ...I'm so...tired." Tim's head rolled to the side, quietly slipping into unconsciousness.

Mike was relieved to hear him stop talking then looked at him for a minute with a sympathetic expression. "Poor guy." He walked over to him feeling for a pulse then adjusting his head so his chin could rest on his chest. He noticed beads of blood on the floor, directly under Tim's hands seeing the evidence of desperation on Tim's wrists. He kneeled down getting a closer look at the pooled blood. "Shit!" he whispered, loudly.

He left the room, momentarily, returning with a can of beer. "This is the coldest thing I could find.. Tim." He placed it on the side of Tim's face where it was the most swollen. "Maybe it'll help. I don't know why you goaded him into pummeling you, but I've developed some weird kind of respect for you, now." Tim's eyes flashed open, slightly relieved by the coldness of the can then his head fell back, falling into a deep unconscious state. Mike kept the can in place, staring at the closed door, watching for any sign of Fred returning. He contemplated what Tim had said about the agency's rule of making no deals with kidnappers then sadly looked at Tim.

xxxx

"We have your agent and if you want to see him alive again,you must-"

The team was surrounding Gibbs' desk listening to the recorded message of Tim's captors forwarded from Vance's phone. Palmer and Ducky had joined the group to offer any helpful suggestions that might come up. They replayed it over and over, obtaining more clues each time they listened.

Abby was a mess, she had listened to it with the same terrified reaction each time; covering her mouth trying to hold in frantic sobs. Gibbs stood protectively beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder. "We'll get him back, Abs."

The recording proceeded with Vance asking to talk to McGee to make sure he was still alive. There was a shuffle noise and a loud bang in the background then McGee cursing into the phone; there was no mistaking his voice which baffled the team to why he would do something so out of still hadn't resolved his intentions.

"You son of a bitch, piece of-" then they heard the distinct sound of flesh against flesh, as Tim was beaten in the background. Abby's face was full of anguish and confusion, "Why would McGee instigate that? He's obviously physically restrained with no way to defend himself..."  
Everyone looked at each other silently, agreeing with slow nods as they continued to brood.

Ziva gasped, looking around the bullpen with wide eyes. "That's it...McGee doesn't swear but that Commander man does!" Ziva stared, blankly across the room, trying to fully trigger her memory.

"Huh?" Asked Tony.

Ziva was impatient and frustrated, her hands waving in the air, while her fingers snapped, mentally grasping at fragments of her memory. "Remember that Navy Commander, a few months ago, his credit cards were stolen?"  
"Crenshaw?" A look of cautious doubt twisted Tony's facial features, "No. Cevits!" He pointed at Ziva, displaying hope in his changing expression.

"His son was the one who had stolen the credit cards. The Commander was cursing up a storm drain."  
Palmer softly chuckled, "It's just storm," He was unable to control his chuckling, while looking around the room, as stern faces stared back at him. He cleared his throat, then regained his previous somber expression, "Yeah...uh, no drain. Just storm...would, ah, be the correct...way to..uh, never mind."  
Ziva ignored Palmer, "Well, Muh-Gee and I couldn't believe the offensive language he was using within our presence. We were secretly commenting among ourselves the trash mouth on him-"  
"Oh my gosh! I remember! And I think, if I'm not mistaken, those were the actual words he used to describe his son when we were there. Or at least, something close to that." Agreed, Tony.

"Ziver, bring him up on the plasma."  
Ziva's fingers flew over Tim's keyboard, bringing up the son's identity and criminal record. "Oh yes, I recognize his face from a photo at the Commander's home. Gibbs, his current address is his father's but when we were there last his father hadn't seen him for at least a few months-"  
"Ziva?"  
"Yes, Gibbs."  
"Make some calls... see when the father has last seen him... DMV, probationary, anyone who might have a clue to his whereabouts."  
Ziva ran back to her desk.

Tony, you-"

"Put out a BOLO on Fred Crevits, on your six boss."  
Gibbs circled his desk then sat behind it, exhaling loudly as Ducky, Abby and Palmer stood, close by. "Jethro, if this is the case, our young Timothy went out on a limb to deliver that clue of his whereabouts. He may now be facing dire results. We could distinctly hear the physical abuse that was inflicted upon him from the sounds over the phone. If Timothy did actually speak to Mr. Crevits in the same tone and language his father has used on him throughout his life, he will be more than be pleased to displace his anger and release his frustrations on young, Timothy."  
Gibbs sighed, again. "Yeah, you read my mind, Duck. I just used less words in my head to get to the same conclusion.

"Gibbs, I just got off the phone with Crevits' dentist!"  
"Dentist?" Asked Abby.

"Well...I had to dig." Ziva answered exasperated.  
"Good work, Ziva." Gibbs gave her a wink.

"Apparently he just had a crown put in, he broke his tooth on a caramel-"

"Ziver, do you have Crevits' address?"

"Yes Gibbs!" Ziva smiled grabbing her coat and weapon.

"Tony! Ziva, let's go!" Gibbs grabbed his weapon.

"Godspeed, Jethro!" Yelled Ducky.

"If anyone can bring Tim back, they can." Assured Abby as she squeezed Ducky then gave Palmer a worried smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks everyone for your reviews, faves, and follows. Really appreciate you to take the time to read. Take care,

xxx

Fred scrubbed the length of his face while talking on the phone, his patience waning. "No, but you don't understand, we couldn't just let him get away, he was there for a reason. His backup hadn't arrived yet, but he must have run our license plates by then."

"Yes, I want you to help me." Fred mumbled. "No, of course, I don't want to go to jail. Then what am I suppose to do?"

"I can't help it if it got out of hand. It should have been a smooth deal-" Fred stared at the bedroom door then snapped his gaze away, in shock. "What! I can't do that!"

"Yeah...he has blonde hair. Yeah, he's tall...I dunno. Yeah, he was wearing a NCIS badge. Really? But why? Yeah. I remember." He answered, exasperated.

Fred stomped his foot, his jaw tensing, then resigning into a slumped posture. "Yessss."

"Yesss. I will. Whatever...Yeah. We'll bring him. Yeah, I forgot about that... I'll leave soon."

xxxxx

"Tim. Come on Tim, wake up." Tim's eyes opened but immediately squeezed shut, as he winced with pain. Mike was standing over him, shaking his shoulders to rouse him.

"Mike...careful... my head. If you shake me any harder it'll probably explode."  
"I'm barely shaking you."  
Tim mumbled. "Well, that's encouraging..." Tim hesitated, looking at the beer can on the dresser across the room, then at Mike, puzzled.

"What?"

"Did you hold a can of cold beer against my head when I passed out?"

Mike frowned then nodded. Tim was relieved to see that Mike might finally be coming around. All of Tim's senseless babbling, earlier got the best of him and now he seemed to be befriending him. Tim knew he had seen 'good' in Mike's eyes, as opposed to Fred's, which held a darkness that gave him a chill, whenever he was near.

Tim slowly sat up straighter, fighting against his stubborn, sore muscles. "Well, I think it helped a bit. There's no longer two of you. So, what's with the courtesy wake up...nudge?"

"Well, I know how you want to keep awake, plus... I heard something." Mike kept his voice low, constantly snapping it back to check the door.

"Get to the point Mike, the clock is ticking-"  
"Do you always wake up so grumpy?"

"Oh, I dunno... probably only the times I'm tied to a chair while awaiting my imminent, untimely death." Tim glared at Mike, sarcastically.  
Mike gave him a nod, "Understandable." "Well...anyways. Fred was talking to the head honcho on the phone, the one he goes to when he doesn't know what to do when he has a problem-"  
"So, I guess he's bagging the kidnapping... ransom idea."  
"He said something about moving you-" A shot rang out causing them both to jump. Their eyes met,fear in their faces as they listened for more sounds; silent and still.

"That can't be good." McGee whispered.

"What do you think that was all about?" Mike asked with genuine honesty in his expression.

"My guess is, he's not out back shooting pheasants." Mike looked doubtful, then Tim realized his ignorance was what was probably going to get them both killed.

Tim would not let the overwhelming feeling of fear and dread take control, as he started to twist his tightly bound wrists, tears coming to his eyes from the pain it caused. His self-inflicted wounds felt swollen and burned with a fiery, never-ending pain.

"What do you think that shot was, Tim?" Mike's eyes stayed faithfully on the door as he talked to him. Tim could see sweat beading on his forehead from worry.  
"You know more than me, go ask him."

"Should I-"  
"No. I was just kiddin'."

"Mike? Ya sure you can't just loosen these for me?" Tim pleaded.  
Mike looked at him skeptically, 'Ah...I dunno Tim. It's me and you against Fred and the other guys. Fred has a gun and our odds aren't good."

"They're never going to be good, Mike." Tim sighed. He perked up when an idea came to him, realizing he was wearing Ziva's wristband. A simple black, leather cord that she had given him after their return from Somalia. He could remember the pink in her cheeks, embarrassed to offer him something so small and inexpensive. He had assured her, he would treasure it always, giving her a friendly peck on the cheek.

He painstakingly worked it off his wrist and let it drop to the floor, as he looked to make sure it was hidden from immediate sight. He nudged his chair back, an inch so it was directly over it.

Mike moved quickly,when he heard steps approaching outside the door, finding his way back to his chair in the corner. Tim closed his eyes, tilting his head onto his shoulder. Tim could hear the door open then Fred noisily step by his side. He grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, violently shaking him. "Wake up. Change of plans, Mr. Fed." Tim let his eyes crack open,cautiously. "We're taking a little ride." Fred turned to Mike, as he stood, stepping closer to Tim. "When I come back I want him ready to go, blindfold him and...give him these so he's unconscious. He can't see how we get to where we're going, just as a precaution. And, keep his hands tied behind his back."  
"What was that gunshot for, Fred?"  
Fred pointed to Mike, "Don't ask any questions!" He left, slamming the door.

Mike considered the sleeping pills in his hand, then looked at Tim, "Can you fake it?"

Tim looked at the blue pills then nodded, sheepishly, knowing he was at Mike's mercy, hoping he would decide not to give him the drugs.

Mike slipped the tablets into his front pocket, "Okay...then," Mike rubbed his hands together then pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket. "Let's get this fitted. "He tied it around Tim's forehead, "I'll pull it down when Mike comes back in-"  
Tim looked at Mike, "Mike why are you doing this? Why are you being nice to me?"  
Mike shrugged, "Lot's of reasons. Hey, it's not all about you. I have a wife and kid I have to think about."

"Oh." Tim nodded, nonchalantly. "But, thanks just the same."

"Hey, you may be alive for now, but I have no idea how we are going to get out of this."

"Don't you have a phone?" Tim asked, unpretentiously.  
Mike shook his head. "Fred doesn't trust anyone that works for him to have one unless we need one for the job."

"Then, if you get a chance call NCIS and ask for... Zeev-"  
They heard Fred coming back to the room and assumed their positions, Mike pulling the blindfold over Tim's eyes. "Ziva David." Tim whispered, then let his body go limp, concentrating to keep still and convincingly incapacitated.

"Is he out?" Fred grabbed Tim's face, then lightly slapped it, satisfied when there was no response. "Come on and help me carry him to the car." Fred grabbed Tim under his arms while Mike grabbed his feet. Tim's head bumped into the chair, with a loud knock. Mike almost smiled, impressed with Tim's performance when he didn't even flinch. That must have smarted. They carried him out of the house.

"Where's everyone else, Fred? You know, Pete, Todd and-"  
"It's just you and me now...and what did I say about asking questions?"

Tim whipped his head to the side to uncover his eyes from the loosely-fitted bandanna then employed his best effort to escape as all hell broke loose.

xxx

"Hey, Pat. I'd like to buy a review."


	5. Chapter 5

"Dammit!"

The chair flew across the room, breaking apart once it hit the wall. The display of their senior agent's unprecedented, reckless anger, was disconcerting and shocking. Tony and Ziva were motionless, looking at the broken chair, then Gibbs; his fists clenched at his sides and his chest heaving.

"Uh...you're compromising the crime scene boss."

Tony swore he could hear a low growl grow deep within Gibbs' chest as he watched him wipe a shaky hand over his face with an exasperated sigh, turning to fix a hard, cold stare at him. "If I ever see McCadden again, I swear I'll kill him!" Gibbs seethed in a loud whisper. "And you...do you even care, Tony?" Gibbs' voice cracked, asking him with his hands open wide, a sincere gesture of confusion. Gibbs' eyes searched his for the truth he so desperately wanted to confirm and unmask. They had all notably broke down in their own way, since McGee's disappearance; Ziva crying and now himself, showing his rage.

Tony had to look away from Gibbs' accusation that twisted his gut. He took a deep breath then slowly turned to face him. "Do I even have to justify that with a denial?" the defensive tone in his voice, dying as soon as he peered into Gibbs' eyes. Tony's face reddened, knowing it did not sound confident and strong, but weak and guilty. "Come on! I didn't know McCadden was going to pull something as assinine as that. It backfired-"  
"Ya think?" Gibbs bellowed. He shook his head as he sucked in air through clenched teeth. He kneeled over the broken chair, studying it with latex gloves that he pulled from his pocket. "Guess, it's back to the ol' drawing board." He mumbled to himself. "Blood on the chair...no doubt McGee's." Gibbs scanned the room, eager to find ...anything that would be conducive in bringing his young agent home. He blankly stared at a far wall, deep in thought.

"What is it boss?"  
"We have his badge... found at the first crime scene. These guys are young and sloppy, making me wonder why we still haven't got Tim back yet. If we could find his cell..."  
Gibbs walked off to methodically search the empty house.

Tony sighed, his eyes busily darting around the room, "I'm really starting to get worried-"  
"Starting?" Ziva rolled her eyes then turned away, trying to control the tears flooding her vision. She waited till she gained control of the tightness in her throat then turned to address him. "I'm not sure how you feel about this, but that does not concern me right now. He...is alive Tony, so don't even hint that he's not!" Tony tried to interrupt her but she ignored him and continued to rant. He realized she needed to hear her own words of hope right now, so he let her continue. "Yes, I am worried, too, but we have to keep our heads on straight in order to find him... alive. You have to be strong for Gibbs, he is obviously having a tough time with this." Tony was silent but his expression, sad and apologetic. "Now look for evidence...I know we will find something here that will help us. These kidnappers are unprofessional and careless." Tony nodded then began to closely search the room, starting on the side, farthest from Ziva.

Ziva believed Tim's rescue would be soon; she felt it deep within her heart. She could not accept the thought of anything else. She brought her attention to the area the chair had sat just before Gibbs had picked it up and thrown it. When she spotted it, the threat of tears returned, instantly, brimming her eyes. It was a simple item but something he had never taken off since she had given it to him...until now. A small token of her gratitude that she had offered to him after he had joined forces with Tony and Gibbs when they had rescued her from Somalia.

She lifted it to her lips, but stopped immediately, just before she was about to softly kiss it, not wanting to contaminate the evidence. A tear fell down her cheek. She realized the leather cord, that she believed was Tim's, was sticky with blood, as he had probably tried to free himself along with the blood from other possible injuries. She cleared her throat, "Um, this is Tim's, I ,uh..recognize it," she announced to no one in particular. She looked closely at the stained floor, frowning; seeing the drops of blood, still wet. "What did they do to you?" She whispered, staring at the floor in disbelief.

Tony walked around the room, reluctantly picturing Tim confined here, tied to a chair, beaten while frantically struggling to free his hands to escape. He imagined his green, gentle eyes, desperate, as he kept his calm, sweet and strong-willed demeanor, meanwhile cleverly thinking of ways to make their mission easier in finding him, leaving the band from Ziva, for one. He knew Tim had a good fight in him, one that he would sometimes try to provoke with taunting and teasing, but to no avail, impressed with his self control. The evidence of the struggle with his bonds was a good indicator that he was using that strength now.

He stepped, slowly, looking at anything that seemed out of the ordinary. When he came upon a small, plastic chair in a corner of the room, he picked up the magazine that lay on its seat. He carefully leafed through the pages while taking glimpses of the images of women posing in bikinis, or posing in underwear and any other image of a woman.

He stopped when he noticed scribbling... it was tough to read; scratched in a pen with weak ink. "**moveing to the comander**" Hmmm, bad speller,Tony thought. He silently mouthed the words written, his expression, serious and focused as he stared out the window across the room. Taking a few quick steps, his attention was drawn to something he could not distinctly make out. He stiffened, when he realized he was looking at a body, laying still, in the backyard.

"A body! Outside!" he ran by Ziva, leaving the room, feeling his chest constrict, his breathing become shallow. He did not want to confirm his assumption.

"Wait,Tony!" Ziva looked at him puzzled, then ran to the window to confirm his statement. Gibbs came running into the room making eye contact with Ziva, then they both exited the room, not far behind Tony. Ziva would not even consider what the three of them were thinking. The distance to the body seemed miles away instead of the small distance to the backyard. She slowed her pace, Gibbs nearing the door as she supported herself by placing her hands on the walls towards the door. Gibbs turned to urge her on.

Tony hoped he was just unconscious, hurt and in need of medical assistance. "Tim! Answer me!" He rounded the house, stopping. It looked like Tim, tall, blonde; sprawled out on his stomach. Tony felt a sting behind his eyes as his legs became incredibly weak, an overwhelming urge to drop to the ground and curl into a ball. He ran his hand through his hair, his face tight with worry,then bent down regaining his breath. He continued forward, slowly stepping as if the path were filled with land mines. Reaching the body, he dropped to his knees.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for all the reviews, follows and faves, all so deeply appreciated

xx

He kneeled by the dead body, his shoulders slumping with relief. "It's not, McGee." He whispered, comforting himself with words of confirmation.

He fell back, sitting onto the ground. The adrenaline that had coursed through his veins, moments ago, dissipated like a mist in a breeze, leaving his body shaky and weak. The fear of what could have been, and what could still be, gripped him harshly, tightening his chest. The stranger laying there could have been McGee, his partner, his best friend; senselessly murdered over a stupid joke that was never even funny in the first place. As the realization sunk in, each breath became more and more labored; Tim could still die if he didn't already. He checked the man's pulse but knew it was too late for him. He heard Gibbs' and Ziva's thundering footsteps stop abruptly, once they had neared, no doubt horrified to see the characteristics of the dead man that were similar to Tim's. Tony met their gazes, detecting the desperation in their eyes, awaiting his verdict.

He answered them as he inhaled, struggling to gain control of his breathing, "It's not him, it's not McGee." The two of them, almost collapsed with relief. No longer assuming the dead body was that of their dear friend's; their courage returned as they approached.

Gibbs removed his cap to run his hand through his hair, then replaced it. "Call Ducky, get him here, pronto." Ziva opened her phone, taking a few steps away from Gibbs to notify the ME, and discuss their findings. Gibbs crouched, observing the dead man, noticing the bullet wound. Tony was impressed to see the instant renewal in his senior agent's demeanor, his determination returning with a positive, unstoppable force.

Gibbs made eye contact with Tony. "This guy could lead us to McGee. We need to find out how many guys were working for Crevits. My hunch is, one or more of them got away. I believe Tim was outnumbered, guessing by the amount of empty beer cans, garbage and waste I found in the kitchen. What's your sitrep so far, DiNozzo?" Gibbs rose, his stature; tall and positive, placing his hands on his hips, while eager for answers.

Tony found strength in Gibbs' new found optimism and welcomed it. It took a moment for him to get to his feet, hopping from a crouched position, then moving closer to Gibbs. "This guy was shot in the back. I'd have to guess he was running away, he seems to be unarmed, but we'll know more once Ducky takes a look at him." Gibbs walked away from Tony, still listening to him, as he looked at the ground, discovering an object; what Tony guessed was a shell casing. Gibbs pulled a marker out of his pocket to tag the evidence then started back towards him.

"We'll call for backup to finish canvassing the area so we can get it done quick...What's that?"

"Huh?"

Gibbs broke Tony from his concentration, impatient. "There." Gibbs pointed towards Tony's side, his brows knit, tightly together. Tony followed Gibbs' gaze to the magazine he had forgotten about, tucked into his back pocket.

"Oh, yeah! I found this in the room where McGee was kept. It would seem someone was watching him, maybe reading to past the time while keeping an eye on Tim so he couldn't get away. I found what looks to be some kind of message.." Tony was already frantically leafing through the pages becoming frustrated when he couldn't find the message right away.

Did I imagine it? Tony thought to himself. Dammit. Where is it... near that picture of that girl in the purple bathing suit-

"Take it easy,Tony,don't rip the pages."  
Tony's grim expression, lightened, "Oh, here it is... Blue bathing suit." He smiled. He held it up as he read it out loud. **"moveing to the comander"**

"Crevits' father is a commander!" Ziva closed the phone then joined them, quickly moving her face to within inches of the magazine to meticulously scrutinize the scrawled message. "That is not McGee's writing. I think this person's writing skills are bad, yes?" She faced Gibbs with a humble expression, her eyes questioning.

Gibbs offered Ziva an endearing, crooked smile then ran his sights over the yard, sighing. "I suppose, but I think we get the message."

"Knowing Tim, if he was stuck in the same room with this guy for all that time he has been...missing, working those puppy dog eyes of his, it's more than likely he got to him, causing this guy a change of heart...he might just be looking out for our little Timmy." Said Tony, smugly, seeming proud of his fellow, younger agent.

Gibbs eyed Tony, hesitating, "You okay, DiNozzo?"

"Uh, yeah...why?"

"I dunno, sounds like your getting... sentimental."

"I just know how Tim can tug on your heartstrings without even knowing it."

"Well...I hope you're right and that's the case. There must be a reason Fred wants Tim alive if this guy was shot down." Gibbs adjusted his cap,squinting against the bright sun."

"He may have researched McGee and learned of his hacking skills. I'm sure he'd love to exploit them before...uh, I mean-"

"Maybe, DiNozzo, except it's not Fred who's behind this, now." Gibbs mumbled as he took reassurance in Tony's last sentence finding a new, glimmer of hope to feed off of. "Tim's hacking skills may have bought us some more time, since it would seem some people consider him a prized commodity-"

"You don't believe Fred is the mastermind behind this boss?" Asked Tony.  
"I believe that message proves that, he isn't," answered Ziva. "-informing us to believe that his father is involved. I do not believe Fred would have even considered to research Tim's computer skills or that he even cares that he works for NCIS."

"But,how could his father be involved, he just sold him out over some lousy credit cards. The commander has a spotless record."  
"That means nothing...I considered him an awful man. Swearing as he ranted and raved on and on...he was very rude within our presence, we were merely trying to help and do our job but he was not at all kind." Ziva huffed in disgust.

"So, you'e saying daddy's going to fix things and make everything all better?" Tony asked Ziva, sarcastically.

"Well,I wouldn't word it quite like that, but, I bet he has a plan of some kind for Tim. Crevits may be seeing dollar signs right now or would like access to some security codes McGee might have knowledge of."

"I think Ziva's right." Said Gibbs.

Ziva changed the subject, holding up the bag containing Tim's wrist band to Gibbs, "I, uh, know Abby will need to analyze the blood found on this, to confirm my findings but, I found this in the room Tim was kept in, and I know it belongs to him-"  
"How do you know it's his?"  
"Well...I gave it to him him after we returned from Somalia. I believe he may have left it behind..to quicken the process...you know, to save us time, his way of telling us he was here."

Gibbs held the bag to get a closer look,noticing the traces of blood on the inside of the bag, frowning. "How hurt is he?" Gibbs whispered to himself. He nodded, acknowledging her with a sense of understanding and compassion. "All right, I think you're right Ziver." He looked into the distance as he contemplated their evidence. "We need to get this place, processed and stop off and see Crevits at his home-"

"Shouldn't we just haul him in for questioning, boss?" Tony looked at Gibbs puzzled.  
"I want to see if we see anything at his house that reaches out and grabs us. You know, how he acts and so on. If they took Tim there, it was very recent and we may see something. We should know if McGee is there. Meanwhile...Ducky can id this guy and we can work on getting a search warrant."

Ziva walked over to the shell casing that Gibbs had located minutes ago, bagging it. She tried to ignore the pounding in her chest. When she had seen how similar the dead man's physical aspects were to Tim's, and how distraught Tony appeared, kneeling, by his side, she thought she would collapse from the reality of losing him. This whole atrocity McCadden pulled had gotten way out of hand. She had been sure they would have found Tim, here and alive. Her hands still shook as she dropped the shell casing into the bag as she stole glimpses of the other bag she held holding the band she had given Tim. She reassured herself, that when they found him, she would get him a new wristband. She would then have a talk with Tim and reveal the feelings she had been hiding from him then do her best to make it up to him. She then prayed she would get the chance.

xxxxx

Mike sat, tense and in fear, on the passenger's side of the moving car, denying the desire to look in the rear view mirror to check Tim's condition. He hadn't heard a sound from the back within the last ten minutes but knew that he was sprawled out over the seat, unconscious. At least, that was what Mike hoped, and he was not dead after what Fred had done to him.

FLASHBACK

Fred and Mike were carrying Tim out to the car and Fred had just gotten finished answering Mike, telling him that the rest of the gang was gone. Mike had no clear idea what gone meant, then quickly recalled the gunshot he and Tim had heard earlier from inside the house. As soon as the words left Fred's lips, Tim arched and twisted his body to free himself from Fred's grasp, while catching him off guard. Mike had deliberately let go of Tim's feet, unsure what he should do next, shocked that Tim would even think of attempting such a feat with his hands still tied behind his back.

Tim had made an attentive effort to fall on his side when he was released so he would not land squarely on his tied wrists but nevertheless, screamed out in pain as he violently jarred his right shoulder, instead. Tim produced a large, cloud of dust from the dry, dirt of the driveway as he squirmed and crab crawled, without the use of his arms to make distance from Fred. He worked his way to the car, leaning against it for leverage to boost himself up. Since, Fred had his full-attention on Tim, Mike saw it as an opportunity to charge Fred with hopes of taking him down.

He closed his eyes, imagining himself, a mac truck, driving full speed, as he ran towards the man. He was stunned when he did not collide with Fred, but instead tripped over his own two feet, falling face first into the gritty dirt. He felt his face warm as he stood, spitting out a bit of mud. He looked just in time to see Fred run into the parked car, missing Tim by inches when he dodged out of the way. Fred's temper flared as he rubbed his arm in pain, "Get'm!"

Tim took advantage of Fred's hesitance, by sweeping his legs, taking him down, hard. As soon as Fred fell to the ground Tim kicked him in the head, then almost fell back, losing his balance. Just as Tim was about to execute another kick, Fred raised his weapon and fired, shooting Tim in the upper arm. Tim reeled from the impact, staggering, then weakly falling back, to the ground. "Damn, I wasn't suppose to shoot him, look what you made me do!"

Fred gained control, standing over Tim with the gun aimed at him as Tim writhed on the ground in pain. "Get in the car...Mike!"

Mike felt the blood drain from the top of his head to his feet, hearing the evidence of Fred's revealed knowledge. Dammit, he had heard us. Mike stood there frozen. Fred cocked the gun, still aiming it at Tim so Mike ran to the passenger side of the car, frantically trying to work the door handle, then getting in. He looked over his shoulder, through the back window watching Fred kick Tim while he was still on the ground, as he winced with each thrust Fred carried out. When Fred had stopped, he managed to drag Tim to the back of the car, carelessly depositing him into the back.

"Wait till dad hears about this!" Fred adjusted the rear view mirror once he entered and floored it as Mike dropped his head back on the seat, exhaling with a sickening dread.


	7. Chapter 7

Tim drifted in and out of consciousness, struggling to lift his heavy persistent throbbing in his arm, was too strong to ignore, finally spurring him completely awake. He had no idea where he was, when he tried to remember the trip here, his mind drew a blank. He sat in a chair, situated in a pitch black, soundless room, making it difficult to mentally focus. Combining the thoroughly dark environment with the extent of his injuries, he wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or closed. The ground under his feet was dirt and there was a smell of old vegetables in the air, giving him reason to believe he was hidden in an old, root cellar of some kind. His arms were still tied behind his back but, now there was a rope around his chest holding him upright on the hard, wooden chair. He felt grimy and physically exhausted, like he had been thrown from a fast moving vehicle. Wherever he was hidden, offered no ventilation; the air heavy and damp, hanging like a thick cloud and making it difficult to breath. He vaguely remembered Crevits demanding security codes when he arrived, that he knew he would not reveal once the commander returned. He would more than likely have to withstand interrogation tactics to get him to speak but that would not last long considering his present condition. It would just be a matter of time that they would decide to dispose of him once they realized he would not give in. He wasn't surprised to see the commander was now involved, stating illegal demands; he never liked the guy from the get-go, but at least it had bought him some more time, while also giving his team more time to find him. He believed Fred would have killed him sooner if his father had never gotten involved.

Tim inhaled deeply, disregarding the pain in his ribs, while digging deep for a strength that his body was opposing; he promised himself he would not give up. He told himself he would be ready for when Crevits returned, keeping the image of Ziva's face in his thoughts, as he considered her the epitome of strength and endurance, especially after what she had gone through in Somalia. He repeated a mantra over and over in his head as he grew to believe it. He wouldn't go down with out a fight. He was amazed when he realized he was actually smiling, the memories of Ziva empowering him, giving him hope, no matter how bleak his outlook appeared.

A piercing sting drilled through his eyes when a hatch door creaked open and a bright light grew across the floor. He blinked, but was still blinded as he listened to quick footsteps cross the dirt floor, coming closer. He startled when he felt something gently pressed against his lips while a hand cupped the back of his head. He tilted his head back and drank, relishing the small relief of cool water pour down his dry, scratchy throat.

"Careful-"

"Mike?" Tim coughed, violently, annoyed with himself for incompetently drinking so greedily, as he tried to catch his breath.

He felt a hot breath ghost his ear, "Room's bugged...I'm sorry Tim...Just give my dad the codes so they'll let you go."

Tim slowly shook his head then inhaled deeply while clamping his mouth shut. He bowed his head, resting his chin against his chest. Crevits was Mike's father? Great...he was stuck smack dab in the middle of negotiations within one big, happy, dysfunctional family business. He felt Mike wrap a bandage around the gun shot wound on his arm, the pressure offering the slightest relief. Mike left his side and Tim looked up, his eyes focusing on his friend. He had a finger on his lips then popped two aspirin in Tim's mouth followed by the water bottle, again to help him swallow the pills. Tim swallowed them then allowed himself to relax forward, closing his eyes while focusing on his mantra and receiving comfort.

xxxxx

"Well, Special Agent Gibbs, I sincerely hope your visit calmed the anxiety I'm sure you were experiencing when you arrived, concerning your missing agent. But, as you can see, there are no signs of my son's presence here, he has not been here for a substantial amount of time. As a matter of fact, I can't tell you the last time we've spoken. I'm sorry if this is of no help to you and your investigation."

Tony saw Gibbs rub his gut then sigh with aggravation. He knew his gut must have been doing cartwheels, at this point, because he was receiving unsettling vibes from this bozo that were off the charts. This guy was faker than fake... you couldn't get any faker. He kept rubbing his arms trying to get rid of the creepy sensation that wouldn't subside while being in this man's presence. He walked closer to Ziva, seeking a comforting level of security while, also peering over her shoulder to get a closer look at the family portraits she was studying, nicely arranged on the surface of an elegant table positioned behind a sofa.

She lifted one to examine. It was the Commander, Fred and another boy; with freckles and jet black hair. They were dressed in survival clothing and well-equipped with survival gear, looking as if they had spent a week in the wilderness living off of berries, bugs and tree bark. Tony winced at the thought of chewing on a green, squirmy caterpillar. Hunh, huh, no thank you. He realized his gag reaction must have been louder than he thought when Ziva eyed him over her shoulder. "Do you have to make those noises in my ear? They are disgusting." Tony's answer was an apologetic shrug.

The men wore belts around their waists holding huge, buck knives secured in holsters. Ziva had to disguise the distaste she felt creeping into her face as she looked at the image of the proud Commander; his chest puffed out while holding a rifle in one hand and a dead deer in the other. Fred was also holding a deer but the other boy was not. "Do you have another son Commander Crevits?" She asked.

"That is my younger son, George. That was taken almost four years ago now. We spent a lot of time in the woods; we'd leave for a week on these survival trips and live off the land, but George didn't always go. I consider him to be the more weaker of the two. The first time I took that boy hunting he was rewarded with his first clean shot...a six pointer, not too far away from where we were hiding. But the sniveling, pathetic weakling just couldn't pull the trigger. Embarrassing. And, damn, if that buck didn't just stand right there...asking to be shot. So, when I decided to take the shot..Son of a..., if that good for nuthin' kid didn't, actually nudge my shoulder! The blasted buck got away. I beat that boy's hide good for that move-"

"Commander!" Ziva's face was a bright red, urging Gibbs to distract her by clearing his throat.

"What? A boy needs sense beat into him every once in a while." Said Crevits, his hands on his hips.  
"Some people are just not born hunters, Commander Crevits." Ziva retorted.

Crevits' face reddened to a dark shade, instantly, "If you can't hunt, you're weak if you ask me. Fred took one down, no problem."

"Let me get this straight-"  
"Ziva." Gibbs kept calm, nudging her.

"No, wait, Gibbs, I have a valid question for the Commander, If you were out...on one of your survival trips as you say, what did you do with a whole deer? Two to three people cannot ...consume a whole deer within a week."  
"We ate what we needed then left the rest."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you consider that to be wasteful? I wouldn't have killed one, either."  
"Well... you're a woman. I wouldn't expect anything different." Gibbs reached out and held onto Ziva's arm, holding her back, but the Commander ignored her behavior. Ziva's brows furrowed, a look of disdain evident behind her eyes. She disliked him, now more than ever and she was not convinced Tim wasn't hidden somewhere, close by. She knew, without a doubt that this man was, surely involved.  
"Where is he now, Commander? I'd like to have a word with him, if I could." Gibbs asked.

"That was taken almost four years ago now. He got married a few years ago, they have a child, lives out towards Manson with his wife, Claire. He's been very busy with his new family and we do not spend much time together."

Gibbs eyed the Commander skeptically, pressing his lips together; he could understand the distaste Ziva had for the man. Gibbs wouldn't trust him with a pet gerbil and the thought that this man had McGee stowed away somewhere... coiled his stomach into tight knots.

"Like I said Commander,we wanted to check in and see if you have seen your son recently. If he shows up give the agency a call." He handed the gruff man his card then started towards the door.

Once they exited, Gibbs hesitated before they entered their car, "When we get back, Ziva, get a search warrant and we need to take George in for questioning."

Ziva nodded, quick to agree.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry,so late,but have been busy moving and am working many more hours...I know probably have heard that one before, but its for reviews, pms, tweet reviews and all!

xxx

Tim abruptly awoke to ice cold water thrown into his face, he spat and coughed up water mixed with his own blood onto the dirt floor. His shirt was unbuttoned and wide open revealing multiple, minor stab wounds and deep purple contusions. He was tied to a beam, his wrists bound behind his back while held up by a rope tied around his chest and abdomen to roughly hold him in a standing position. His eyes eventually focused, only to find the commander and Fred standing in front of him. He remembered they had told 'Mike' to stay outside and keep watch, Tim's only chance to attain some reasonable sympathy from any one of them was cleverly removed from the interrogation procedure. The commander knew his son, all too good. They had ruthlessly interrogated him for some time, now; or at least that was what it seemed, no longer having any concept of time, his strength waning drastically. He felt feverish, no doubt from an infection setting in from his gunshot wound and other previous injuries.

"I was hoping it would have taken just a couple of beatings to get what we needed from this guy but it would seem that I was mistaken. His gentle demeanor is not what it appears, he's stronger than I thought."

"Come on commander, let's just be done with him,this is getting boring...he's not going to talk, we can see that at this point." Whined Fred.

"Yeah, commander. You thought. Your arrogance has... fooled you for too long. You simply believed, someone of your dominant stature, would easily beat the codes out of me? I'm never telling them to you, I don't care what you do...you lowlife piece of-"

"Shut up!" Fred slapped McGee across the face but McGee just smirked, through bleeding lips. He felt a strange satisfaction in knowing that the commander had been wrong with his assumption of his character and was growing increasingly frustrated with his futile attempts of breaking him. He knew without a doubt he was not going to crack, pleased with himself for the strength he didn't think he had.

"Some judge of character you are. Think you know it all-"

"I said, shut up!" This time the commander punched him in the gut causing Tim to struggle to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, desperately searching deep within himself for the last bit of strength he could muster. He decided to remain quiet, still not giving up on the bit of hope that his team would find him soon.

xxxxx

"Ziva, any word from the surveillance team at Crevits',yet?"

"They just reported in, Crevits has not left his house since we were there. I don't know, Gibbs,I think...Gibbs?" Ziva noticed that she had lost her bosses' attention, his eyes glued to the elevator doors from across the bullpen.

Ziva's breath caught when she saw who it was that entered that created Gibbs' steely gaze. Tony was busy scanning his computer screen, whistling and humming as he wiggled in his chair singing to himself, oblivious to the impending confrontation that was broiling within the bullpen. Ziva kept her eyes peeled on the two men, ready to intervene if something should arise.

"Uh, oh." The silence in the office finally caught Tony's attention as his eyes widened when his boss shot up like a cannon to cross the bullpen in a fury, set with one prime destination; McCadden. Ziva intuitively darted out from behind her desk, to stand in the middle of the walkway in front of McCadden; not as a protective cover for the metro cop but as insurance to keep Gibbs under control so he could continue to aide in Tim's rescue. She cringed at the evident fire burning behind her boss's stare; menacing with an underlying vengeance, full and all his own. No one else was in the room except McCadden, in Gibbs' mind.

Gibbs diverted Ziva, then had McCadden by the lapels of his jacket and was walking him across the walkway to push him up against the brick wall. Beads of sweat quickly formed on the detective's upper lip. Tony couldn't imagine contending with Gibbs' anger let alone, combined with the ninja's; he wouldn't dare, not even in his worst nightmare.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Gibbs's face was a mere inch from McCadden's, his voice low and gravelly.

"Gibbs, Stop! We will do this... the right way." Ziva was standing behind Gibbs, leaning close to his ear. "No witnesses." she whispered loud enough for McCadden's benefit as she eyed him with contempt.

McCadden's heart beat wildly as he gulped. "We uh, found this at the crime scene that McGee was transferred from...uh...it looks like it could be his watch. I just wanted to drop it off. We found it in the driveway." McCadden visibly trembled as he held up an evidence bag containing the timepiece.

Gibbs snatched it out of the detective's hand. "Give me that." His jaw was clenched as his muscles worked. "You have no right being here."

"I uh, don't see what the big deal is,it's only McGeek-"

This time Gibbs had to restrain Ziva. She fought Gibbs momentarily then took a calming breath with Tim's image in mind to remind her.

McCadden's adam apple bobbed as his eyes bounced from one agent to the other, waiting for one or both to pounce. Gibbs' gaze burrowed into his eyes and didn't budge even when McCadden looked away.

"Boss. Ducky wants you." Tony placed a hand on Gibbs' shoulder, pity in his expression for Phil. Gibbs finished his glare towards McCadden then left to autopsy as Ziva followed.

"You owe me big time Phil. I just saved you from one angry ninja with mad killing skills... she doesn't even know how many people shes killed. And, I don't need to explain the temper that erupts from Gibbs. One look from him and you just know he could tear you limb from limb without working up one bit of a sweat."

"You know DiNozzo,I really didn't think you liked McGee. Maybe I misread your taunts towards him and disrespect or... maybe you shouldn't be so wishy-washy and figure out what it is you really think of him."

Tony pressed his lips together as he watched McCadden enter the elevator to leave. "Hhhmmmm. Do ya think...Nah. That's how everyone treats their probie, especially,McGee. Phil doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't know McGee like I know McGee."

xxxxxxx

The doors opened and Gibbs breathed in a sigh of relief, thankful Ziva had stopped him from pummeling McCadden in the bullpen. His anger had made him blind to what was most important; the recovery of Tim. "Ducky, whadya got?"

"Ahhhh, Jethro. You're keen sense of timing is impeccable- I'm sorry, but your expression is of the uttermost dour...have you heard anything new on Timothy?"

"No, just had a run-in with McCadden. Nearly killed him, but Ziva stepped in. I just told her to take a quick break, this is really getting to her."

"Ahhh, yes, well, that's to be expected after what he has done to land our young agent into such a dire situation."

"Come on, Duck. I don't have all day. Time is something Tim doesn't have."

"Of course, I will get right to the point. It would seem this young man that you recovered from the crime scene is a civilian, Peter Mathers. Shot in the back as you well know, but we checked his BAC or blood alcohol level, after noting the strong smell of beer on his clothing and it would explain a reason for all the empty beer cans discovered at the crime scene from what Abigail has told me."

"What was it?"

"0.20. He was most likely experiencing a blackout at that point. He was too inebriated to run, poor lad."

"Poor... lad?! Duck...he's involved in Tim's abduction-"

"Yes,of course...and my conclusion was that he felt extremely guilty in what he had become involved in. He was finding a way to lesson the pain and ignore his actions by becoming pickled to the gills. Probably didn't feel a thing when he was shot down. But, yes, I agree, Jethro. My utmost concern is for Timothy."

"That really doesn't help Tim, you got anything else?"

"His wallet contained a few membership cards...A membership to a hobby shop, a basketball team photo id and and a membership to WWF."

"Wooof?"

"World Wildlife Fund. He was a kid Jethro, and I'm sure he had no clue to just what he was involved in. He also had a photo of a friend, we have already ID'd. It's possible they were close enough that he may, also have something to do with Tim's abduction."

"Thanks Duck."

xxxxxx

Tony observed the kid sitting in front of the table behind the glass. Beads of sweat continuously lined his forehead as he kept wiping the moisture away. He looked too young to be involved in something so heinous. This kid most likely was not aware of the psychopath behavior the gang leader possessed. He had gotten in too deep and was now regretting it. He would talk like a canary for sure. He was already broken, Tony could see it as clear as day.

Gibbs came in like a fast-moving tornado, slapping the morgue photos of his buddy on the table then leaning over his shoulder. "You know Pete, Todd? Cause he knew you. Liked you so much he carried a class picture of you in his wallet. You two must have been close."

The kid looked at the photo, his eyes filling with tears, a look of horror on his face. "But, Pete? I had nothing to do with that. It was...We met when we were kids, we were both in Weebelos. He's my best friend. I ran...I didn't know what to do. Pete was too drunk to figure out what was going on. I heard a shot and ran...I wanted to go back, but-"

"Well, he's not your friend anymore. Pete's dead."

The kid named Todd sobbed, cried like a baby. "Wow,this kid has it bad. Musta been pretty good friends." Thought Tony.

"And now we have a missing agent that could also die. Do the right thing Todd. Don't let Pete's death be in vain. Fred did this... Am I right?"

Todd nodded, too choked up to speak. "I was actually about to turn myself in, Fred scares me more than you guys do, so I figured I'd be safer in prison." The door to the observation room swung open,startling Tony.

"DiNozzo,I have a theory. I need to speak with Gibbs."

"You can interrupt him, I'm not gonna-"

"Fine."

Ziva left the room then Tony heard a quick knock to the interrogation room before she entered.

"Gibbs, they are located on the commander's property-"

"Do you have the search warrant?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then let's go."

"Don't you want to hear my theory?"

They were already moving quickly down the hall as Gibbs knocked on the observation room's door, "DiNozzo! Gear up!"

"Tell me on the way there, Zeev."

xxxxx

"Dad! Uh, I mean commander! A car just pulled in!" George had entered the underground room; first closing the hatch doors then placing a pair of binoculars on a small table. He turned to face his father and brother...and Tim.

Tim was close to unconsciousness, ropes holding him up against a vertical beam in the middle of the small room.

"Hey! What are you doing?! You can't do that!" George stomped his foot on the ground. "I'm going to go and tell them if you don't cut him lose right now!"

The commander grabbed Tim's shoulder, pulling him closer as he aimed a gun to his head, "Oh, I don't think you will."


	9. Chapter 9

I Do Not Own NCIS

Hopefully not many mistakes..I realize I've been deleting words without knowing and missing it before I post. How I do that? not a clue.

xxxx

"When I checked in with the surveillance team stationed at Crevits', they informed me he hadn't left since we were there. So, Gibbs, I started thinking to myself...Crevits' and Fred are heavily into outdoor survival excursions and procedures, so maybeeeeee..." Ziva looked towards the backseat at Tony then at Gibbs, who was driving, "they built some kind of... fallout shelter or, you know, a shelter made underground. I mean,we searched his basement and every other room in his house and found nothing, but the fact remains he has not left his premises." Tony was leaning forward to include himself in their conversation as he slowly nodded, deep in thought. Gibbs appeared skeptical but was open to consider her theory, scratching his chin.

"So...I looked back a few years into Crevits' financial history and found an offline account with multiple receipts and transactions for rental excavating machinery and equipment along with the purchases of a sufficient amount of lumber and concrete...and so forth."

Gibbs perked up with Ziva's evidence with a half grin growing on his face, but Tony inched forward on his seat.

"But, what are they doing with him, then boss?"

"Well...Whatdaya think DiNozzo?"

Tony frowned as he sat back expelling air from his nose. "But maybe not...I mean is he that valuable...can he really disclose government access codes and files and... all that jazz? I mean..he never told me that he can."

"McGee knows more than you'd care to know DiNozzo. But, he's always had the smarts and ethics to keep that stuff under wraps."  
"Gosh. If I knew all that, I don't think I could keep quiet, let alone, not let people know how knowledgeable I was to such important documents-"  
"Exactly." Gibbs sneered in the rear view mirror, making sure his senior agent was aware of his disgust. Gibbs quickly brought his attention to the road, driving faster than the posted speed limit as Tony sat in the back seat, the self-revelation consuming him as he stared out the passenger window.

"Turn Gibbs!" Ziva pointed to a road coming up.

"Hey! Who's that? Look, someone just pulled in to Crevits' driveway. We should hang back to observe before we move forward, yes?" Ziva looked at Gibbs waiting for his reply. Gibbs knew how eager Ziva was to get to Tim, hell, he was, too. But, he knew it was important to keep his calm, not wanting to endanger Tim and becoming hasty with their eagerness.

Gibbs pulled to the side of the road then grabbed his binoculars, "Lemme get a quick looksie."

"Son of a bitch...it's McCadden" Gibbs barely spoke above a whisper.

"Holy crap!" DiNozzo looked at Ziva wide-eyed as her face became an out-of-control snarl.

"I swear...I'll kill him-" Gibbs pulled Ziva back as she struggled frantically with the handle of the passenger door.

"Ziva. Hey! Earth to Ziva." Ziva hesitated, realizing her actions as she mumbled to herself in what Tony was sure were curses spoken in Hebrew. She inhaled deeply, "Sorry, Gibbs but I was peed."

One of Gibbs' eyebrows raised as he looked at her with his head tilted to the side. "Huh?"

"Pissed, Ziva." Tony declared from the back seat. "Yeah...I hear yah,me, too. But you can't be peed...you can be P'Oed, or peeved but never peed. Hmmm. Is it strange that you have recently developed a strange, yellow tint to your complexion-"  
"DiNozzo!"  
"Yeah boss!"  
"Focus."  
"I'm sorry, it's just... I never thought he would be...you know...dirty! And to think I befriended him. He ain't even a yang to my yang...nope. He's got him some... baaaad juju and karma all rolled into one, big disgusting dirty-dishwater colored aura-" Gibbs and Ziva were staring at him from the front seat,their mouths practically hanging open. "Um...Never mind."

Gibbs pursed his lips then watched McCadden circle Crevits house then motioned for Tony and Ziva to follow him. "Come on. Let's go get McGee before we all lose our minds." They exited the automobile then darted their way towards the property, quickly hiding behind bushes and trees. Gibbs stopped at the vehicle the two surveillance agents were occupying to request their backup. He was grateful a third agent was currently relieving another for duty, able to assist them.

He continued forward, then raised a hand, gesturing for them to sit still as he zeroed in, using his binoculars on the metro cop. McCadden looked over his shoulder then ventured forth, crossing the boundary of the backyard and proceeding onto a rough path that lead into the thick woods.

They followed by staying on the edge of the yard until they reached the border of the forest he had entered.

Gibbs crouched, able to follow McCadden with his eyes until the metro cop came to a hatch in the ground marked by a large boulder and tree stump by its side. He stomped on the wooden door, covered with leaves, waiting for someone to acknowledge his arrival. Gibbs watched as the hatch lifted, revealing the top half of Fred's body as he held the door open for the detective until he fully entered the underground shelter. "Ziva...you were right." He whispered to himself, proud of her good thinking skills. He turned to his team, making eye contact with each agent as he waved them forward.

xxxxx

The commander hesitated, when the room filled with the bright light of the new day's sun, engulfing the small room, as someone walked down the hatchway stairs. He still had Tim in his grasp and tied to the beam, his wrists bound. Tim heard a familiar voice, recognizing it instantly. His thoughts reeled; so, McCadden was involved in all this? But why?

The commander gave Tim a frustrated shove to his shoulder as he addressed the man that approached him. "He won't break, detective...we've tortured him, endlessly trying to beat the information out of him till he's practically dead, but he just won't budge. I say we cut our losses and dump his body near the warehouse."

"Are you kidding me? I was just over there... at the navy yard. They are no closer to figuring out where he is than they were yesterday. They don't have a clue to his whereabouts. Let me have a go at it, I think I know what can break him." McCadden advanced towards McGee as he looked back at him with contempt in his half-closed eyes as he fought to remain standing. "There's a certain little ninja girl that he should be worried about and just what I could do to her."  
Tim sneered, remaining silent.

"All you have to reveal is one little address to one little witness that is a member of the, uh, one little witness protection program. The computer's all ready to go. Come on, you don't want to involve Miss David in all this."

"She can hold her own, just fine." Tim mumbled, his mouth swollen from the beatings. "I'm not the least bit worried about what you ..think! you could do to her. If you were smart...you'd be more worried of what she is planning to do to you-"

"Oh yeah? What about me and a few of my friends that owe me a favor. You don't even want to know, who I know in low places, Timothy."

Tim tried to conceal the worry that blossomed in his chest. He stared across the room, unwavering but swallowed with difficulty as tension quickly built in his throat. The frustration he was experiencing from being restrained, was unbearable. If he was miraculously released, he would be more apt to attack McCadden than to try and escape. With Tony being friends with this guy, and having no idea what he was capable of, could he possibly be putting Ziva into some kind of danger? He pulled on his ropes, as they dug into his chest, stomach and wrists.

"I see it, the concern you have for your little sweetheart. Tell me...does she know how you really feel about her? You know...if you're feeling lonely right now I could go fetch her so you two could spend some quality time together-" McCadden was right in McGee's face at this point as McGee glared across the room, "-better yet... I could spend some quality time with her-"  
McGee didn't think twice but head butted McCadden in the nose, instantly smirking when the cop dropped to the ground, heavily onto his knees while holding his nose; blood spurting through his fingers. Tim's aim couldn't have been more perfect, as McCadden cursed while blood flowed and gurgled into his mouth. Tim cracked a smile, unable to control the enthusiasm he felt over the triumph of his action. He expected a punch or a slash from the knife but even the commander did nothing to retribute the situation. Instead, Fred laughed out loud, "Shit, man! He's even restrained and took you down like a ton of bricks! How pathetic are you?"

McCadden pulled himself together as Tim watched him grit his teeth as he rose; a scowl forming on his face. His own senses were slow as McCadden lashed out, striking Tim across the face with a vengeful force.

"Leave him alone!" Yelled George.

"Don't ...worry...he hits like a girl." Tim coughed, bowing his head against his chest, trying to stay conscious. He peered at George, shocked to see him, impulsively snatch his father's gun from his holster. He trained the gun on McCadden but then quickly jerked it back and forth between his father and brother, frantic.

"George! You don't want to do this! Give me back the gun!" His father angrily bellowed but didn't make a move.

"Cut him loose! Now! I'm done with this! I will not go to jail because of what you are doing to him! He doesn't deserve this!" Tim felt a certain admiration grow in his chest for the kid. He was finally making a stand; sick of being manipulated by his family to participate in their criminal actions. George sighed then stepped close to Tim, cutting him loose. He had to quickly grab his bound arms when he staggered forward, exhausted and weary.

Fred stepped forward laughing, "Come on little bro-"

"Stop or I swear... I'll shoot you!" George cocked the hammer back then aimed it at his brother.

Fred looked perplexed and doubtful as he proceeded to step forward. George pulled the trigger and Fred jerked back. He fell back onto his butt clutching his shoulder. "I can't believe you just did that numbnuts! I'm your freakin' brother!"

"Key word...freak-" A shot rang out causing Tim to jump. McCadden stood there, holding up a pistol, in his hand, blood covering his face and shirt from his nose break but a gloating smile underneath. Tim fell to his knees along side the boy who lay on the dirt ground, stone still as McCadden raised the gun, aiming it at Tim's head.

Tim was oblivious to the metro cop's intentions, his eyes filling with tears as his voice turned into a fierce, growling yell. "How could you do that!? He's just a kid!" Tim's anger got the best of him and he charged, practically falling, barreling into McCadden and taking him down while sending him back into the wall, crashing down shelves and items stored on them.


End file.
